


Human Interest

by Stakebait



Series: Necessary Evil, being the account of an unlikely alliance and all that came after [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-20
Updated: 2010-06-20
Packaged: 2017-10-10 05:07:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/95859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stakebait/pseuds/Stakebait





	Human Interest

  
Nighttime at the Sunnydale Albertson's supermarket. Buffy is pushing a shopping cart down a fluorescent-lit aisle and Spike is trailing her, randomly throwing items in the basket as they pass. Buffy reaches into the cart and pulls a jar out of the basket.

Buffy: Spike, no. We do not need pickled pig's feet. I wouldn't know where to start.

Spike: (as she deposits the jar back on a shelf) Fine. No pigs feet. (Sounds put upon) No chicken necks. (He holds up a bag of dried seaweed) There's no food in your food!

Buffy: You're not even supposed to be eating solids!

Spike: I can if I want. Besides, you are. (Grabs a box of Ring Dings off the shelf and tosses it into the cart.)

Buffy: (pouting) It is too food. As soon as I get some rice and fresh fish and a book on how to make sushi. I figure if I buy the seaweed and stare at it long enough I'll eventually get motivated.

Spike: (charmed smile) Alright pet. But are you gettin' anything that doesn't require a research session?

Buffy: Sure I am. Rice-a-roni. Campbell's soup. Stove top. (Suddenly gets a guilty look) And some salad stuff!

Spike: Yum. Salad and boxes. (He grabs multiple hot sauces off the shelf and deposits them in the cart as well.)

Buffy: Look, I never learned how to cook, I was out killing things. And I'm saving up special lasagna for the dinner party.

They turn the corner of the aisle and begin to meander down rows of detergent and fabric softener. A thin scruffy looking guy is reading the back of a Woolite Black bottle.

Buffy: See that guy does laundry.

Spike: We had servants for that...or minions.

Buffy: (rounds on him and narrows her eyes, but is only half-serious) Are you saying I'm your servant?

Spike: (raises an eyebrow) Yeah, you do everything I say. You made me move the bloody couch!

Buffy: Yeah, but...(Out of the corner of her eye she sees the scruffy guy try to slink away surreptitiously with his Woolite) Hold that thought.

She rips open a bag of chopsticks, and hurls one down the aisle, smack into the back of the scruffy guy. A middle-aged woman turns the corner in front of him just in time to see his remains burst into dust and settle to the floor. She stands there openmouthed, unsure of what has happened.

Buffy: (after a momentary surprise, grins hugely) Smile! You're on Candid Camera!

Spike: (muttering under his breath) Cleanup in aisle seven.

************************************************************************

Cut to a close up on a rapidly spinning gray blur. As the speed slows it resolves itself into a rotating copy of a newspaper, which finally stops to reveal a masthead reading "The San Francisco Chronicle". A screaming headline in huge, black type reads "Mass Blackout Causes Panic!" Smaller type underneath proclaims 10 dead, 17 injured, by Frank J. Helsinger. In the bottom corner right corner is a small box: 10 Energy Saving Tips, by Charles Kim.

************************************************************************

The Kim household, Sunnydale. The newspaper, or an identical one, is sitting, still pristine in its folds, on a low coffee table in blond wood and glass.

Charles: (pacing up and down the living room) So I'm gonna blow the whole thing wide open! It was a standard filler piece; crime is falling in California. We got the new census data from the bureau and I noticed an anomaly in the numbers.

Mrs. Kim: (seated on the edge of the sofa, trying to look interested) That's nice dear.

Charles: No! It's not nice, that's the point! Mom, Sunnydale has a higher mortality rate per capita than South Central!

Mrs. Kim: That can't possibly be true. This is such a nice town.

Charles: (rolls his eyes) 'Member Eugene and the zombies Mom?

Mr. Kim: (from behind his own newspaper, The Sunnydale-Hazelton Gazette) I always thought he went around with a bad crowd.

Charles: They weren't bad, they were dead!

Mrs. Kim: That's terrible!

Charles: (sighing patiently) The point is, there's something weird going on in this town, and I'm gonna find out what it is.

Mrs. Kim: Well, it's just nice that you home on assignment, I always worry that you're going to get sent somewhere dangerous.

Charles: (bitterly) They never send me anyplace except for coffee.

************************************************************************

That very same evening, at Buffy's apartment, there is a dinner party in full swing. Buffy, Spike, Giles and the rest of the Scoobies are seated at the dining room table, which is topped with half finished lasagna, Caesar salad and garlic bread.

Giles: This is a lovely dinner Buffy, thank you.

Buffy: (proudly) It's my special lasagna.

Xander: (with a full mouth) What's so special about it, is it magical?

Buffy: No. It's the only thing I can cook. Hence, special.

Spike: (gives her a proud grin) She was slaving over a hot stove all day.

Buffy: (smiles back at him) Well not slaving so much as stirring, but you get the idea.

Giles: And what did you do Spike?

Spike: (starts ticking off points on his fingers) Drove to the store, carried the groceries, chopped things into little bits, hid out here while she was throwin' a wobbler...

Willow: (confused) Is that a dessert?

Anya: (helpful smile) That's cobbler.

Giles: I think you would call it (gets distasteful look) 'freaking out.'

Spike: Well haven't you gone native?

Giles gives him a look.

Tara: (with a shy smile to Buffy) This is nice.

Buffy: (big smile) Thank you Tara.

Tara: You know, it's just like being a family...e-except nobody's yelling.

Willow squeezes her hand.

Spike: (smiling at Tara) That's us, just one big genetically unlikely family.

Willow: Hey! Stop smiling at my girl. (She throws a piece of garlic bread at him)

Buffy: Hey now! The rug!

************************************************************************

Meanwhile, at the Rosenberg household, Ira and Sheila have actually sat down together for dinner.

Mrs. Rosenberg: It's so important that we make time to really bond and connect like this as a couple.

Mr. Rosenberg: (smiles) Food's delicious. (He picks up his wineglass for a toast, and the doorbell rings.) Were you expecting anyone?

Mrs. Rosenberg gets up sighing and answers the door.

Charles: Mrs. Rosenberg? Charles Kim, San Francisco Chronicle. I have you on record as one of the founding members of Mothers Opposed to the Occult? (Gives her a boyish smile) I was hoping you could spare me a few minutes of your time?

************************************************************************

Later that night, Buffy and Spike are on patrol.

Buffy: Well, that dinner party was much more successful than my last one.

Spike: No arrows this time.

Buffy: I wouldn't want to repeat myself. But I was gonna tie you to the chair if you didn't stop flicking croutons across the table at Xander.

Spike: Kinky. With all your friends right there?

Buffy: (cuffs him on the shoulder) Not in front of the company!

Spike: It would give Harris the thrill of a lifetime.

Buffy: (wrinkles nose) Icky. On all levels.

Buffy is suddenly jumped from behind by an unusually large vampire. She rolls with the momentum and sends him flying over her shoulder, pulling a stake from her pocket as he gets to his feet. Spike runs to the other side of the vamp, flanking him, and switches to game face. In the bushes, Charles snaps a picture. Spike pokes the vamp on the shoulder, and when he turns, punches him across the face. The vamp's head snaps to the side, but looks otherwise undaunted. Spike sends a couple more ineffective punches his way, and the vamp smiles at him, until he is kicked full force in the back by Buffy.

He stumbles a few feet forward and spins on her, backhanding her across the jaw, and sending her flying into a gravestone, which cracks upon impact. Spike snarls and leaps onto the vamp, sending them both stumbling towards Buffy, who is just getting her footing. She grabs the advancing vamp by the scruff of his shirt and sends him spinning out of Spike's grasp. She then whirls, kicks him in the face, and before he has time to recover, plunges the stake into his chest, incinerating him. A clicking sound comes faintly from the bushes as his dust settles.

Spike: (cocks his head) Did you hear something?

Buffy: Yeah, but I don't sense any more vamps. Must be merry woodland creatures going along their merry woodland ways.

Spike: Yeah, hunting, killing, feeding on carrion...

Buffy: Spike, we're in California, not the Savannah.

Spike: It's the same everywhere, just smaller prey.

As they start walking away, Charles gets up out of the underbrush, plucks a few leaves off of his jacket, and sneaks off in the other direction.

************************************************************************

The next morning at Giles' apartment, there is a knock on the door. Giles answers it to find Charles Kim standing there, holding steno pad and pencil, the morning sunshine sparkling behind him.

Charles: Good afternoon, Mr. Giles.

Giles: May I help you?

Charles: Charles Kim, San Francisco Chronicle. You used to be the Sunnydale High School librarian.

Giles: Yes?

Charles: I was class of '97. Can I come in?

Giles: (after making a note of the fact that Charles is not in fact bursting into flame in the daylight, gestures to the living room) Come in. (Smiles) Have you come to return an overdue book?

Charles: (smiles back) No, not exactly. I was hoping I could ask you a few questions.

They both sit down in the living room.

Charles: During your tenure, did you notice any...unusual incidents?

Giles: Such as?

Charles: Mysterious truancy?

Giles: (small smile) We're twenty minutes from the beach, I never found it all that mysterious.

Charles: Ummm...more like long term truancy. Unofficial dropouts? Death in the family? Death of the family?

Giles: (helpfully) You want City Hall. Surely these things are a matter of public record. At least in Britain...

Charles: (holds up his hand to halt Giles' sentence) I've got all the background. I'm looking for more of an eyewitness account, the man on the street perspective.

Giles: I'm hardly the man on the street. I spent most of my time taking care of an under-funded and underused library. Now, if you'd ever care for some background on the Dewey Decimal System, perhaps I can be of more assistance. (With finality) Otherwise, I'm afraid I can't help you.

Charles: (leans forward, laying his elbows on his knees, hands clasped) Surely you noticed when the library exploded along with the rest of the school?

Giles: Yes, it was a miracle no one was inside. The school had a number of gas leaks. I myself spoke to the principal about it on several occasions.

Charles: Mr. Giles, my brother Eugene was in that graduating class. He never liked to talk about it, but I always understood he'd seen something more disturbing than some flying bricks.

Giles: Oh yes, I remember Eugene, is he well?

Charles: He's at Yale. And he won't even come home for Christmas.

Giles: (standing up) Perhaps you should go see him. (Attempts to herd Charles to the door) So you're in San Francisco now?

Charles: (still sitting) Yes, I'm home on vaca...assignment.

Giles: The school's culpable lack of proper maintenance would certainly have made a good story three years ago, but I'm afraid it's old news by now. Thank you so much for dropping by.

Charles: (gets up, shrugs, and hands his card to Giles) If you remember anything, here's where you can reach me.

Giles: Thank you. (He closes the door behind him, and leans against it, his face a mixture of relief and worry.)

*************************************************************  
A bit later, on the steps of Stevenson Hall, Willow is leaving the dorm, as Tara is flying up the stairs.

Tara: Willow!

Willow: Tara!

Willow/Tara: There's something I wanted to tell you.

Willow: (smiling) You first.

Tara: I saw this flyer on the board in front of the student center asking for any Sunnydale High School graduates, so I went to check it out for you. There's free pizza.

Willow: Neat!

Tara: But there's also this guy asking a lot of questions about (air quotes) weird goings-on.

Willow: Came to the right place… Oh.

Tara: (nods) Big oh.

Willow: What are people telling him?

Tara: There weren't as many as I thought, no one I recognized, and they weren't...you know I couldn't hear everything...but I don't think they were screaming big snake. But they were talking for awhile. And who knows who else he's asked.

Willow: Hmmm. Oh! Maybe...my Mom just called. That's what I was gonna tell you. She wants me to come over, but she didn't say what it was about. She had family meeting voice. I wonder if this is the it.

Tara: Are you gonna tell her? (They start walking down the steps and past students playing ultimate Frisbee on the quad)

Willow: I don't know. I tried once; it didn't go too well. She's gonna freak out! She hates all that stuff, she thinks it's a phase. And kind of an embarrassing one. You know, like maybe if she ignores it, it'll go away.

Tara: But it won't. (She laces her fingers through Willow's)

Willow: I know that. You know that. Mom, she doesn't wanna know that.

Tara: But at least she still wants to talk to you. It's a start.

Willow: Mom's not much for talking to you, it's more like talking at you. I'm afraid to start when I don't know where it's gonna finish.

Tara: Do you...w-want me to come with you? D-do they know about me?

Willow: (smiles and starts swinging their hands between them) Not yet, she's been on sabbatical and this didn't seem like a phone conversation, but no time like the present.

Tara: Are you sure? I mean if she's already upset...

Willow: Don't worry, that'll be the easy talk. Demons she doesn't believe in, but lesbians, whole-heartedly so.

*************************************************************

A little while later, Buffy and Giles are discussing recent events at his apartment.

Giles:...and I'm hoping he finds this a dead end.

Buffy: I thought that's what got him going in the first place.

Giles looks at her quizzically.

Buffy: All the deadness?

Giles: Ah. Yes.

Buffy: Why can't he know?

Giles: It would endanger your cover.

Buffy: With other humans? All the vampires around here know who I am anyway.

Giles: That's hardly the point.

Buffy: I thought that was the point.

Giles: Buffy, the last thing you need is official attention. The police are not overly inclined to recognize mystical authority. They can scarcely cooperate with each other.

Buffy: I guess. But wouldn't everyone be better off if they knew why they should go home early?

Giles: Unfortunately no. I'd be the first to admit the Council has become a bit hidebound...

Buffy: Hide what?

Giles: Set in their ways. (Buffy nods) But some lessons we have learned from past experience. Most people simply can't cope with knowledge like this.

Buffy: You're talkin' riots, mass hysteria, witch burnings?

Giles: Among other things. Killing each other in panicked flight. Turning on each other as the cause of the problem. Turning on the messenger. Even the Slayer.

Buffy: Pfft. And we say the vampires are the bad guys.

Giles: They're not bad, they're just frightened. That's why the Council considers it our job to protect them from themselves, as well as the supernatural.

Buffy: Ok, but say he does write this. Who's gonna believe it?

Giles: You're right, probably very few people would. But can we really take the chance of the knowledge falling into even a few of the wrong hands?

Buffy: Well what can we do about it? It's not like I can stake him.

Giles: Standard procedure would be to notify the Council.

Buffy: Is there a plan B?

Giles: Speak with him? Convince him it's a wild goose chase if possible. Or failing that, that he would do himself more harm than good with such an exposé.

Buffy: So this is dependent on my skills as a public speaker? Can plan C be mind erase spell?

Giles: Leaving aside the dubious ethics, I doubt it would be effective. If he weren't himself from Sunnydale, perhaps. But as it is, we'd have to take too much. His amnesia would be noticed.

Buffy: (shrugs) Well, I'll do my best. I guess if all else fails, Spike can eat him. (At Giles' astonished look she holds up her hands) Kidding! Just kidding!

*************************************************************

Meanwhile, at the Summers household, Joyce and Dawn are in the living room, being interviewed by Charles.

Joyce: I'm afraid I got a little carried away. You know how it is.

Charles looks befuddled, but polite.

Joyce: I was afraid my girls (gives Dawn a smile) were being exposed to bad influences with everything you hear about that heavy metal music and Dragons and Dungeons.

Dawn: (rolls eyes) And Buffy and I are so known for the heavy metal.

Joyce: Well, a mother worries.

Dawn: A mother has too much free time. (To Charles) Now, if you want the scoop on all things spooky in Sunnydale, I'm your girl.

Joyce: (worried) Now Dawn, enough with the urban legends. I knew I shouldn't have let you watch that!

Dawn: No, really. I mean for starters, there was this girl who committed suicide, and now she's haunting...her gym locker.

Joyce: Dawn! That's not a nice thing to make up stories about!

Dawn: It's true! It's like three down from mine, I can show you. C'mon! (She grabs Charles by the arm and starts hauling him towards the door).

Charles: That's very kind of you, but...

Dawn: That's just the beginning. There's tons of weird things the grownups don't talk about. I could be like your anonymous informant. (She pulls him out the door) They pay informants, right?

*************************************************************  
A little later, at the Magic shop, Xander hangs up the phone, and returns to the research table with an angry and defeated expression on his face.

Xander: (bitterly) They never even noticed. Any of it. It got to the point where I was expecting 'Xander who?'

Buffy: (winces) Ouch. I'm sorry.

Willow: (leans over and gives him a comforting hug) At least you didn't get a three-hour lecture on how claiming to be a witch is detrimental to female empowerment. She was ok with Tara though.

Tara: (smiling) She thinks I'm centered.

Willow: (smiles back at her) That's right. You're the centerest girl I know. Right in the middle. (Mutters) We'll see who's superstitious when she's a toad.

Giles: Still, it's good that you made the effort. Perhaps they'll be more on their guard should they encounter anything uncanny.

Buffy: Whoa! I though telling people was a bad idea. According to you, the Rosenbergs should be breaking into electronics stores and trying to burn me at the stake. Again.

Giles: There's a substantial difference between Willow confiding in her immediate family about her chosen lifestyle...

Tara: (hesitantly) I think it's innate more than chosen. A-at least for some people… Willow's very powerful.

Giles: (gives her an acknowledging nod) Be that as it may, your own mother has shown there are advantages to honesty between family members. It's hardly the same as a front-page article.

Buffy: So basically, one or two people are ok. A crowd is stupid.

Spike: (cigarette dangling from the side of his mouth) Pretty much. That's why it's so easy to get away from the mobs. That and the torches really screw up the night vision.

Buffy: What about flashlights? Or did you mean torches flashlights?

Spike: (shrugs) Either.

Tara: It's not just that it's one or two. If they know you already they can relate to it better, it's not so out there. (She gestures to Buffy) Like when Willow told me about you.

Buffy: Yes, but you were already a friend of magic.

Tara: True.

Anya: So now what?

Buffy: (with an overwhelming sense of doom) Now I go and try to talk this guy out of investigating Sunnydale.

Willow: He doesn't even know who you are.

Buffy: But I am a Sunnydale graduate. If he's talked to anyone else he probably knows who I am. Not that that helps my case.

Anya: I could talk to him. I have journalistic experience.

Xander: (putting an arm around her) Why don't we just hold that in reserve?

*************************************************************

Hours later, at the student center, Charles is gathering up his stuff to leave when Buffy peeks her head in.

Buffy: Time for one more?

Charles: (looks up and smiles) If you don't mind walking. They need to lock this place up. (Gestures to the table) You can have the last doughnut.

Buffy: (walking over) I really had my heart set on that free pizza but...ok. (She snags it, and they walk out onto the nighttime campus. Buffy is glancing around, patrol senses alert, but is trying to be surreptitious about it.)

Charles: Looking for someone?

Buffy: Huh? Oh, no. Just lookin'.

Charles: So what class were you?

Buffy: '99. (Dryly) They saved the best for last.

Charles: (chuckles) My brother says he went out with a bang. Eugene Kim? He was in your class...

Buffy: Buffy Summers. (She thinks for a minute) Eugene...I think he sat behind me in Algebra II. Wait, what class were you?

Charles: '97.

Buffy: I just transferred that year.

Charles: Was it a lot different from your old school?

Buffy: (flippantly) Yeah, you know, small fish, big pond.

Charles: Did you notice anything unusual?

Buffy: Absolutely. They served tater tots instead of fries.

Charles: (gives her a wry smile and flips back to a page in his notebook) I was thinking more along the lines that your class had a 9% mortality rate, even prior to the incident at your graduation.

Buffy: (proudly) Yup. At least 50% less than the class above it. Someone did the math.

Charles: The average for the state is .06%!

Buffy: Really.

Charles: There were several gang-related incidents reported, surely that's strange for a suburban area.

Buffy: Oh you know, all the crazies usually turn up where you least expect them.

Charles: Like in the cemetery?

Buffy: Yes, I suppose you could get crazy people in a cemetery. No sane person would want to hang out in a... (She is cut off as Charles shows her three photographs. One of her sauntering through the graveyard, chatting with Spike on the previous night, one of her and Spike fighting a vampire a few moments later, Spike in full vamp face, and one of the tail end of a vampire dust shower.)

Buffy: Huh. (She studies the top one for a moment) D'you think I look fat?

Charles: (unable to hold in a smile) They say the camera adds ten pounds. (Casually) And killing a monster not always the most flattering pose. You wanna tell me what's going on?

Buffy: (sighs) No. But...wait a minute, give me that! (She snatches the top photo.)

Charles: (defensively) I have the negatives...somewhere else.

Buffy: (waves her hand vaguely at him) You got Spike on film! I didn't know that worked.

Charles: (confused) Spike is the pointy thing?

Buffy: No. (Points to the photo) That Spike. That stake.

Charles: My mistake. So, is your boyfriend camera shy or something?

Buffy: I guess I never really tried to take a picture of him. Can I keep this?

Charles: If you tell me what's going on.

Buffy: You're from Sunnydale, what could I possibly tell you that you don't know already? Except if I do tell you, I might be burnt at the stake, and riots may ensue. Torches and flashlights optional.

Charles: Riots, huh? You must be pretty popular. Look, I know about your mom's organization.

Buffy: I wouldn't call the book club an organization.

Charles: MOO?

Buffy: Oh, MOO. We don't talk about that.

Charles: I'm getting that.

Buffy: I mean c'mon, MOO?

Charles: (stops walking and turns to face her) Level with me. Like you said, I'm from Sunnydale. I know there's something weird going on. I mean, not then. We were used to it (gestures to her) we don't talk about that. Then I went off to Stanford and I had other things on my mind, like why is our mascot a tree?

Buffy: A tree? Menacing.

Charles: I'm saying! Move to the big city, get an apartment for only 8 million a month, get a job as ace reporter and file fetcher extraordinaire. But when I get this report that tells me Sunnydale makes Beirut look like a vacation spot, it all kinda came back to me. Let's just say I know it's not a typo.

Buffy: (getting serious) Ok, I'll level with you. You know there's something weird. And I think you have a pretty good idea what that weird is (points to the pictures left in his hand). But to publicly expose this would be deadly.

Charles: It's deadly now.

Buffy: (gravely) You have no idea how deadly it can get.

Charles: That's the point. I don't. Nobody does.

Buffy: I do.

Charles: That's why I'm asking. People have a right to know the risks, how to protect themselves. We put warnings on cigarettes; this whole town needs a warning.

Buffy: Part of me agrees with you...but mass panic, the consequences are worse.

Charles: (shrugs) It's ignorant people who panic.

Buffy: So you only want to tell the people who aren't ignorant?

Charles: I want to make them not ignorant. (Pauses, realizing that was a bad sentence.) An informed populace is a heck of a lot less likely to fall prey to riots and witch-hunts.

Buffy: Trust me. That's not true.

Charles: No? No offense, you seem like you know what you're doing, but the whole history of journalism, and the free press, and printing -- all the way back to Guttenberg -- goes to show that the most dangerous time is when a few people control all the information for the public's own good.

Buffy: (snorts) Again, good point. But you don't understand how widespread this is, it's not just here, it's everywhere. And if you can even get anyone to believe you, I don't think it'll do much good. Not to mention that you're putting yourself at great risk.

Charles: (starry eyed) I've uncovered an international conspiracy? This is what everyone dreams of! I could win a Pulitzer. (Comes back to himself) Ok, that's bad. And scary. And bad. But still, even if they don't believe me, maybe someone else will start asking questions. That's the point right? You have to try. I mean if it really is everywhere. You and your reclusive boyfriend aren't going to stop it all by yourselves, but you're still trying.

Buffy: (mirthless laugh) I have no choice. You do. And think about this first. If you do this, my blood will be on your hands.

They start walking again in silence.

Charles: Why don't you have a choice? Couldn't you just stop?

Buffy: Nope. And takin' the fifth.

Charles: (gives her a small smile) I don't have to mention your name. (Pauses) Do these things read the paper?

Buffy: Some do, I guess. Spike mainly watches soap operas. And even if you don't mention my name, still a problem.

Charles: Spike, your boyfriend, is one of those?

Buffy: (uncomfortable at her slip) Um...yeah. And he prefers not to be called a those.

Charles: Well, what do you call them? Monsters? Disintegrating things?

Buffy: Well, Spike mostly. Wait, I have an idea. You wanna come over for some coffee?

Charles: Sure?

*************************************************************

Shortly after, they arrive at Buffy's apartment. Spike is sprawled on the sofa, sans shirt, watching TV and drinking a beer.

Buffy: Sorry, it's kind of a mess.

Spike: Oi!

Buffy: Well it is! Spike, Charles. Charles, Spike.

Spike: (quirks an eyebrow) Bringin' home strange mean are we Sla...Love? (He gets up, shakes Charles' hand and puts a possessive arm around Buffy's shoulder.)

Buffy: This is the guy we were talking about at the magic shop?

Spike: Reporter bloke?

Buffy: Yup. (She sits down on the couch with Spike next to her and gestures for Charles to sit across from them.) I need you to explain a couple of things to him.

Spike: Alright. (Thinks for a second) Beer?

Charles: (sinking into the armchair) No thanks, it's been a weird enough night already.

Spike shrugs and takes a swig of his own before settling back with his arm back around Buffy's shoulders.

Buffy: Charles here thinks that if the whole world knew how to protect themselves from say...your kind, which he calls disintegrating things, the world would be a better place.

Spike: Well, not for us. No offense pet.

Buffy: None taken for a change. He doesn't believe me.

Spike: (a flash of anger passes across his face and he sets his jaw) About what?

Buffy: About me surviving it.

Spike: Look here mate, yeah if all the herd knew that vampires were real, and that they should all sit tight in their little houses after sunset they might be a bit better off. 'Cept for not really in the long run. It's not hard to get people out of a house. And once we start gettin' hungry we get real inventive. You could tell 'em that we can be killed with a stake through the heart, 'cept they're not strong enough, they're not fast enough, and most of 'em would be shitting themselves in fear. Besides, it's out there. Fuck knows there's a million bloody books and movies. They don't believe it 'cause they don't want to.

Charles: Because they're fiction. I mean they're called fiction. People will believe what they see in a newspaper...won't they?

Spike: Sure, same as they believe in UFO's and that Tom Cruise is straight. Fat lot of good that'll do. All you'll accomplish (waves his hand in an offhanded manner) besides gettin' yourself killed is that half the other vampires in the world will come crashing down into this town onto the Slayer.

Buffy looks at him with her eyes wide open, and Spike gives her an apologetic look for the slip before continuing.

Spike: (changing to vamp face and leaning forward) 'Cause we already know we exist, see. And I don't take kindly to anyone who puts my Slayer in danger.

Charles: (shrinks as far back into his seat as he can, and gives Buffy a terrified look) I'm not hurting her. And he's not hurting me, right? This is a good vampire?

Spike: (laughs and switches back to his human face) Good, no. Courteous, sometimes.

Buffy: (swats Spike) Don't worry, he won't eat you. See? He's just finished all the Ring Dings.

Spike: (offended) Well I wasn't gonna eat the seaweed.

Buffy rolls her eyes at him.

Charles: Look that's very reassuring and all, except for the part when his face melted, but this explanation just made me more confused.

Buffy: Let me narrow it down for you. (She walks into the kitchen and pulls a pair of tongs out of the drawer before returning to the living room.) Most people can't do this (she bends the tongs fully back on themselves) and even I, who can, won't be able to stop what you'd unleash on us.

Charles: I don't have to say that you're here.

Buffy: No, but advertising the death rate and odd happenings is just like putting an 'Eat at Joe's' sign in front of the whole town.

Charles: So what, I don't say anything, you don't say anything. People keep quietly dying and never knowing why? I didn't take this job for the less than minimum wage and all the pencils I could steal. I took it because people have a right to know the truth. And if you're asking me to promise not to tell them, well, this time I don't have a choice.

Buffy: I get that. But if you look at your little page of numbers, you'll see the death rate has gone down. That's my job. (Pauses) You know every time on the news when the army's making some kind of surprise attack and they won't tell the reporters even though they keep asking? This is just like that. You can't tell them about the surprise attack. It puts me at risk, and that puts the town at risk. It also puts you at risk, (reassuringly) don't worry, that's not a threat.

Spike shifts next to her, and Buffy gives him a quelling look.

Buffy: I wouldn't kill you even if I was allowed. So all I can ask is that you protect your sources.

Charles: (takes a long moment to think) Sources, huh? If there ever is something I can report that isn't going to cause the end of the world as we know it, will you let me in on it?

Buffy: Count on it.

Charles: (getting up) I should go, it's late. (He walks to the door.)

Buffy: Wait! (Charles spins to face her.) Eugene! Wasn't he the one with the zombies?

Charles: It was a phase. (He looks thoughtfully at the pile of stakes lying on the table by the door for a moment before picking one up and walking out.)

*************************************************************

Two weeks later at the Magic Shop, the gang is gathered, and Willow is flipping through the latest edition of the Chronicle.

Xander: Anything in this one Wills?

Willow: (scanning) Power shortage, again, minor earthquake, drive-by shooting, and ooh! A sale at Macy's! Nope, he hasn't had any bylines in a week.

Buffy: So he stuck to his word. He was really a nice guy.

Dawn: Generous, too.

Everyone turns to look at her.

Dawn: He gave me tw...five dollars for my haunted tour of Sunnydale.

Spike: (ruffles her hair) That's my girl. Take him to the crypt, bit?

Dawn: Nah. It's not scary if there's interior decorating.

Buffy snorts.

Spike: Hey, its got ambience!

Xander rolls his eyes.

Anya: How much longer are we gonna keep paying for our subscription to that thing?

Giles: One more month, just to be on the safe side.

Willow: It's not so bad. I kinda like reading about all the cool cultural things they have in the city.

Tara: We could go there sometime for the weekend.

Willow: (drops the paper on the floor in her excitement) D'you want to?

As the gang continues talking, a page in the paper is blown over by the breeze of a customer walking in the door. A small article in the bottom left corner of the page reads:

Police report no further leads in the disappearance of Chronicle reporter Charles Kim (23)...


End file.
